From a winnower of wheat to the winds

To you, light troop,

Who with wings of passage

fly through the world,

And with a whistling murmur

Gently ruffle

The shadowed greenery,

I offer these violets,

These lilies, and these little flowers,

And these roses here,

These ruddy roses,

All freshly bloomed,

And these carnations also.

With your gentle breath

Fan this plain,

Fan this place of sojourn:

While I breathe

deeply over my wheat

In the heat of the day.